


The Communication Between Family

by Katlyn1948



Series: After The Long Night [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Consequences, Continuation, F/M, Family, I hate tagging, Meeting, Other, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Arya has a conversation with her siblings and has some enlightenments about the future.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Bran Stark, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow & Arya Stark
Series: After The Long Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981213
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95





	The Communication Between Family

**Author's Note:**

> So I added another part...like because it's me and fuck...
> 
> So if you haven't read "Let's Revel in Being Alive" then I highly suggest that you do. 
> 
> Also, like....okay, I gotta stop....ugh!! 
> 
> enjoy!

There was a slight chill in the air as the soft light of the suns rays burst through the small opening of the curtains in Arya’s chambers. The embers of the fire had died long before she opened her eyes, her only warmth now coming from the body that was embracing her. She could still hear the soft snores from Gendry when she woke from slumber. His arm was draped around her exposed body and their legs had tangled themselves within the furs of her bed. His hand laid gently on her sides with his fingertips lightly caressing her pucker scars.

She had yet to tell him about the origins of her scars. They weren’t discussed when she had decided to bed him for the first time, and he knew better than to ask. The dead were approaching, and they had better things to do than to talk about haunted pasts.

Even as they joined the night before, he did not broach the subject. Their thoughts, were again, elsewhere.

But now, with the dead staying dead and another war to ready themselves for, perhaps she could take the time to tell him the story of her time in Bravvos.

She unwrapped herself from his arms pulling on the smallclothes that laid strewn across her chambers and grabbed the pitcher of brisk water, pouring herself a glass. It was cold, the liquid, no doubt from the chill that had entered the castle, and it quenched her morning thirst.

Most of the castle would still be asleep; the sun had just risen above the horizon, yet still too early for anything to be properly done. The only ones to be awake at this hour would be maids and cooks and servants readying the castle for the day ahead.

There was a lot to be done. The bodies had to be laid upon the pyres, burned for the gods to take. Council would have to be held for how to proceed with marching in King’s Landing and feast would have to take place, to celebrate their victory.

When her brother had found her in the Godswood with the ashes of the Night King scattered around the Heart Tree, she had pleaded for discretion. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know it was her, Arya Stark of Winterfell, that had killed the beast. But there were ears all around Winterfell, and soon the whole castle knew who the true victor was.

No doubt the boars, and turkeys, and sweet jams and cheese would all be in her honor. Men would gorge themselves on ale and the women would sip at their wine, all in praise of their savor. Arya would make sure to keep herself scarce, letting the party hail her the hero while she remained in the shadows.

Slipping from her chambers, she padded her way down the corridor of bedchambers, passing by Robb’s, Rickon’s, even Theon’s old bearings. It was bittersweet knowing her brother’s would never sleep in those beds again, but rather they were safe with her parents under whatever Gods had taken their souls.

She stopped shy of her parent’s old chambers, now belonging to her sister, and wondered if Lady Stark was warm in her bed. It was doubtful; Sansa had trouble sleeping, even before her sister returned to Winterfell. There were mornings that Arya would greet her sister in the dining hall and notice the dark circles coating beneath her eyes.

There were a number of nights, before The Long Night and before Jon arrived at Winterfell with the Dragon Queen, would Arya hear her sister pace her chambers as she herself would lurk between the shadows.

Bringing her fist to hover just above the oak door, Arya knocked. It was a low sound, only strong enough to be heard from within the chambers. There was a sound of movement and then the unlatching of a lock before the door swung open. She was expecting to see her sister’s fiery red hair, not her eldest brother’s dark curls.

Sansa was dressed in her full attire sitting at the large round table within her chambers. Their youngest brother Bran was seated just across from her, an old look upon his face that Arya had not seen since she had returned to Winterfell. Jon looked as if he hadn’t slept in days and the clothes he was bearing were simple, the ones he would often wear when sparring with Robb when they were younger.

He took in his sister’s form and noticed she was wearing only her small clothes. Sighing, he reached beside him, pulling one of Sansa’s chamber robes and handing it off to her.

Arya took the robe and secured it around her frame, the hem of the garment tangling within her feet. It had been custom made for Sansa’s body, making it look like a tent on Arya’s petite body.

When Jon opened the door farther for her to enter, she complied and made her way to the round table, taking her own seat.

“A family meeting without me, I see.” She mused as she plucked a grape from the center tray of food and popped it into her mouth.

“We wanted you to sleep.” Sansa simply stated with a sound of concern in her voice. “You nearly died.”

Arya scoffed, “We _all_ nearly died, Sansa.”

“What Sansa means is that we weren’t discussing anything of great importance.” Jon assured. “You weren’t needed.”

“If it wasn’t of great importance, then why are all of my siblings gathered and I am so conveniently absent?” Her annoyance was evident. There was something her siblings were keeping from her and she didn’t like being withdrawn from such discussions.

“They were discussing whether or not you should wed the bastard blacksmith.” Bran intervened. His voice hadn’t been nearly as stoic as it was when Arya first arrived back in Winterfell. There was a hint of the old Bran resurfacing.

Arya’s brows shot up in favorable reception, rather than surprise. Gendry had been right, and perhaps they should have taken the time to discuss what they were before meeting with her siblings. “Have you, now? Well, I must say, I would have liked to apart of those discussions, since it is my future you’re talking about.”

She should have been angry, truth be told, she was, but curiosity got the better of her and she genuinely wanted to hear what her siblings had to say. Of course, she would be reassuring her that she will not be wedding anyone in the near or distant future.

“That display of affection did not go unnoticed, Arya. The keep is talking. Not to mention you dragged him away to your chambers with all of us staring; what are we supposed to think?” Sansa had the uncanny ability to chastised, reprimand, and guilt trip all in one sentence. It was an ability their mother had nearly perfect and on that Arya detested.

“People can think whatever they please.” She shrugged. “Besides, their suspicions would be correct.”

“So you laid with him?” Jon asked. There was tension in his jaw and his fits were clenched. Arya had to trend lightly, not for her, but for the sake of Gendry. No matter how she would explain it, she feared Jon would not listen. Sansa had told her about what he did to Ramsey before she fed him to his dogs.

If he could do that for his estranged sister, what could he do for the sister he loved the most?

“Twice, actually.”

Jon’s nostril’s flared and Arya noticed how his hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“But both times were enticed by me.” She added, hoping to quell his rising anger. “You know Gendry, he would never do anything to hurt me.”

“But he’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard. How do I know he hasn’t planted his seed in you already; leave you with a bastard of your own?” Jon snarled. The words were harsh, and they cut deep within Arya.

She could feel her own anger bubbling and she couldn’t help but throw herself from her chair, letting it fall behind her. She staked to where her brother was standing and squared her stance towards him. He may have been a whole head taller than her, but she had handled men far bigger than him.

“So what if he put his babe in me? It would be a Stark, not a bastard! And don’t you dare compare Gendry to his father, because he is nothing like him!” She shoved a finger into his chest, letting her brother take in the words she was saying. “I’ve known him longer than you, Jon. Gendry took care of me when we were children. He kept me safe. And if I were to fall with child, he would _never_ leave me.”

“He took advantage of you!” Jon countered.

Arya gave a curt laugh at her brother’s stupidity. He hadn’t heard a single thing she said. “No, Jon. I took advantage of him.”

She turned on her heel and left her sister’s chambers, stalking back to her own chamber where Gendry was still fast asleep. She watched him, his face twitching as the cool air swirled within the rooms. Then a smile formed on his sleepy lips and she couldn’t help but wonder what his dreams were filled with. Hopefully something far better than the nightmares that plagued her thoughts during slumber.

She would enjoy this moment, just the two of them cut off from the rest of the world, because she wasn’t sure what would be in store as the days went on. Arya knew that what she and Gendry are was frowned upon and maybe they should cease, but deep down she knew that she could never part herself from him again.

She didn’t have to be married to him to be with him.

They belonged to each other, and maybe after all the wars had been won, they could forge their own path together.


End file.
